An Assassin's Guide to Skyrim
by Fearless Fault
Summary: Follow our merry murderers across the land and experience Skyrim through their curious points of view. Current chapter: Windhelm, Two Murders and a Tart. Next Chapter: Solitude, I Love Weddings. (Multiple genres, POVs and various locales will be covered. Rated for violence and occasional language. Chapters are self contained one-shots.)


**Two Murders and a Tart.**

_**Summary: **Malatu and Muiri spend some quality time in Windhelm. While taking in the sights and enjoying themselves they meet some interesting people and even a little excitement along the way. Told through the eyes of our favorite murderous darkelf, I hope you enjoy this bit of drabble. Reviews are most appreciated._

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><p>I tire of endless chatter and chit concerning cold stones beneath colder crueler skies. These things; words, symbols and pointless waggling of tongues, can only manage the barest scrape of a moment when bent in this way. You come to a city like Windhelm expecting these things, a capitol so far flung north that it might as well sink into the sea or be frozen in a glacier. You expect a level of discomfort, an inkling of repulsion and maybe even an iota of sympathy for its occupants. But I tell you now, don't bother. Your pity and time will be wasted if used in such a foolish fashion. For Windhelm is the seat of the old Nordic ways, and deserves no ounce of pity for its self-wrought misery. This city's cancer is its own blindness, and why would you mourn for someone who took the dagger to their own eyes?<p>

Its sickness is painted in the marketplace, on faces wrinkled and pulled behind equally decaying fruits and fish. Only spared from the buzzing of flies because even those pests would not be caught in a city so repugnant. You can see its true colors smeared in every puddle of filth and bile that is too polluted to ice over in dignity like the rest of the slush that fills the alleyways and gutters of Skyrim. There is no music to clear the sound of bone rattling coughs and drunken slurs from the air. Air which is so stagnant that merely breathing it will incur on the unfortunate and unwitting newcomer a sense of uncleanliness so complete that no amount of scrubbing will ever remove the stain.

So why am I here? Hood drawn and my precious lily tucked under arm? A request of course, only a favor asked from beyond grave and void could make me willingly walk these streets. And more so to bring my prodigy with me. But it is better if she understands all there is to our art, all the fine tuning that goes into the final product. She is after all young and inexperienced as to be expected, a new bloom whose petals have yet to be stained. If it were anyone else I might find myself worrying about her resolve in this, whether she has it in her to carry through and complete a piece on her own. But she is watchful as her hands move ceaselessly ruffling and then smoothing the sides of my robes and I know that fidgeting for what it is. The desire to hold the tools of the trade in her hand and try to mark her will on a fresh canvas. So I bring her with me and we wander the market place and permanent shops till darkness finally blankets the city in the only light it looks good in… none at all.

She hasn't long to wait until we meet with our client and learn what it is they want painted. Until then it's off to the Cornerclub for a bit of entertainment and practice. As we walk through the streets she poses a question that I'm surprised I even have to answer. But I recall that she does not see Windhelm as I do and is unaware of how things work in this city for my people.

"Why there and not the Candlehearth inn? Certainly the rumors do not differ so much from one tap to the other?" Her mouth forms, ending in that pink cupid's bow that gives her tanned face just the right amount of innocence.

"You'd be surprised, but honestly that's not the reason. It's a matter of being comfortable. I have an… understanding with the owner of New Gnisis you could say." I reply, feeling no need to go into greater detail with her. I enjoy her curiosity at times but if she isn't observant enough to learn some things without having to ask then she can never hope to achieve true talent in the field.

Her brows furrow at my words but I feel her nestle herself closer under my arm and watch as more drunks stumble past us and down one of the side alleys. She is afraid to be back in this city, the scent of it mingles with the otherwise foul air and ties my stomach in knots. Do I blame her for the apprehension? Not in the slightest, but it amuses me in ways I will never tell her, to know that if what had happened to her here had been some how avoided we would never have met. Yet still I hold her close and we wander down the uneven and worn flagstones looking all the world like besotted fools out for a frigid stroll.

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><p>The Cornerclub is warm, dimly lit and smells like home. It is a blessing after what we have just had to walk through for not often do I have the pleasure of such fine company. And although they eye my charge, crimson gazes brimming with ambiguous intent from drawn faces it is not my concern what they may think.<p>

"Ah it is good to see you again my old friend!" As is always the case Ambarys' welcome is inviting and yet wary. He is well aware of why I am here, and there is an unspoken promise in the air between us. I will not recruit nor otherwise harry his patrons while on the premise and in exchange I have his silence and use of the top floor. It is an accord that has served me on too many occasions to recall. He pauses for a moment to regard Muiri and the flicker of some half formed assumption shifts behind his eyes. "The rest of your party is upstairs already, just let me know if you need anything in the way of food or drink."

"Hmm they are early but no matter, this should cover the expense."

This is a formality and a facade, the motions of barkeep and patron played out with all the meaning of a farce. Still I thank him, smile at those who still stare and put shining coins down on the counter. This is the dance, the semblance of normality that distracts the rest of the world from thinking that beings such as I exist.

"Dinner as well if you would be so kind," I add as Muiri's stomach reminds us both it has been a long journey from the sanctuary to here. She gives one of those sheepishly little smiles she's been practicing and for a moment even I am tempted to believe her veil of innocence. Ambarys quirks a brow in illease as if he is on the verge of asking something but shakes it off after a moment, leaving me to wonder what he sees when he looks at her. Does he see nothing but a doe eyed lamb rubbing shoulders with the slaughterer? I hope so, it will aid Muiri greatly if she can maintain that mask for as long as possible.

The stairs creak under our combined weight as we head to the third floor and waiting guest. The scrape of cup and fork along with hushed chatter resume as soon as we are out of sight of those below like some held blanket falling back into place. In a way I worry if I will need another location for the next time my art brings me to this wretched city. For if my presence here has come to outweigh the benefit then what once served as convenience may well become a cage. It is sticking with comforts such as this that can lead one to a short drop on a shorter rope. I tell you it is not paranoia though, it is merely survival taken to its logical conclusion. To think otherwise will beget a shallow and unmarked grave, of that there can be no doubt.

Our guest startles easily and it is all I can do to keep my face blank as she rises and nearly topples the table in the process. But recovery is swift as she reaches for us as if to shake hands and I have to swallow the reprimand that boils up as Muiri reciprocates the gesture without a thought. I offer no explanation for refusing that simple nicety and merely take my seat, this is after all a business meeting not a dinner party.

"I assume you already know who we are so you will understand if no introduction is offered," I begin as our guest slips cautiously back into her chair and my darling lily leans along the back of mine. "I am also going to assume that this is your first time so allow me to give you a brief explanation of what is expected of you and what you can expect in return before we begin."

"Um.. yea sure.." she nods vigorously although it had never been a question. Our guest is a wide eyed thing, a bundle of twitching habits in a plain blue dress who tangles her hair with unconscious motions. For an instant I am reminded of another female who once wore a similar look and the memory makes the present just a touch sweeter.

"First and perhaps the most obvious expectation is secrecy. What is said in this room will never go beyond it. Is that clear?" It is at this moment that Ambarys arrives bearing a tray of baked and roasted things and for a moment all four of us are silent. Only when four has once more dwindled to three does our guest nod again, the motion far easier than talking around the lump in her throat. How do I know it is there? Because of the way she swallows when she makes eye contact with me and the manner in which her mouth opens and closes without uttering a sound.

"Good, secondly once a price and the particulars are agreed upon there can be no turning back. So if you have any second thoughts about what you are asking for then now is your one chance to turn back. Just say the word and you will be able to leave this meeting without worry." In all my time at this trade I have only ever seen two people take me up on what I have just offered. I suppose I have the sacrament itself to thank for that as it does seem to keep the weak willed from wasting my time with their fickle senses of morale.

"No sir, I want to see this through, that bastard has to pay for what he's done…" our guest seethes before dropping off abruptly at the sight of my raised palm.

"We will get to the enjoyable part in a moment I assure you. A little patience if you would please," I interject before handing Muiri a boiled cream tart as her stomach once again interrupts the conversation. "Lastly we expect you to give us every iota of information concerning this… bastard as you called him. Even the seemingly unimportant details if you would be so kind, from where he can be found at various parts of the day down to what he eats during his morning meal.

"Now what you can expect is complete privacy in this matter, we do after all take client confidentiality very seriously. You can also expect the job to be done no matter what it takes, we do not agree to contracts we can't fulfill. If possible we will accommodate any special requests you may have concerning the when, the where and the who not. That being said it is not possible to control every aspect of a job at all times so please be aware that the unexpected may occur."

I allow a moment or so in order for what she has been told to sink in properly. Because although it goes without saying that these are anything but frivolous matters being discussed, people are always inventive in the methods of their foolishness. It is only when she once more turns her eyes to mine that I continue. "Do you find these rules agreeable?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, then we may begin."

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><p>I suppose it can be said that against a backdrop as unpleasant and poisonous as Windhelm everything else earns a special sense of appreciation. For instance the aurora shifts from a casual kiss against a velvet sky into a welcoming temptation exhaled from the lungs of the untouchable ones and crooks a wanton finger in my direction. But I can not drink its brilliance tonight for below the guards prowl, two legged dogs with gazes pressed to the beat of their repetitious night. They weave sluggishly through the veins of the city as alert and aware as those already deceased. Perhaps if they knew, if only an inkling, then they would look up and bear witness to the silhouette that stalk these roofs. But they do not, even as the moons throw my shadow over darkened window and snow strewn eave.<p>

It is the way I require it to be, for how else can I observe the intricacies of my fledgling student while refraining from influencing her art? She hugs the wall with every taut nerve, the cat observing the mouse all while under the gaze of the hawk. From the top of the temple the view is as splendid as it ever could be and the sounds of the devout give a serene backdrop to it all. But do not mistake my words for compliments of the Nord tongue. The cries and high flung prayers from within are the farthest one can go from the idea of music. However it is a suiting noise for this place, the last moans of a dying beast bellowing with borrowed breath. For surely if the palace of kings where Ulfric sits is the ugly head then the temple is the lungs with which it keens.

But tonight that wail is unwittingly perfect as Muiri crouches behind a row of slab shaped sentries, using them as cover as they watch unseeing over the dead below the frozen earth. The sight is too amusing to ignore and as her poison tipped blade slips between her prey's ribs I find myself trembling with unspent laughter. Just like that our client's will is done and our father claims another soul right under Talos' nose. I wonder if either of them would notice, for what is the worth of a single soul to the intangible ones?

I know what it is to me, the value of one drunken bigot's soul, the brother of a buffoon's general. Twenty gold coins... only because Nazir frowns when I return from jobs empty handed. The crescendo of hymns to an outlawed god rises and then falls in tandem with our target to the stones. Only unlike the voices of his brethren this Nord will never utter the name Talos again.

It takes only a moment to land silently beside Muiri who taps the hilt of her blade against her pursed lips. I need not ask what she is thinking, the matter of how to affix her own personal touch to this work is written clearly enough in her stance. I give her space enough to think, trailing through the gravestones with ears tuned for possible movement in the otherwise hushed graveyard.

With casual interest my eyes flicker over the worn names chiseled on those white slabs and my mouth quirks as I find what I am looking for. Behind me my tender lily treads, curious as to why I have stopped now that the job is done. It is with a gesture that I draw her eyes down to the names carved bitterly into two graves. The first is empty and old of that I am positive, but the second is fresher and news to the female at my side.

"So all three of them are buried next to each other… how sickenly sweet."

"Yes, after both her daughters were taken from her she couldn't bear the pain. At least that is the rumor."

"How long have you known?"

"That Tova took her own life? Not long, I do after all avoid this city when possible." I shrug and turn to leave, to be glad to leave this hole behind and all the people in it.

But a wrenching jerk that washes my nerves in ice paralyzes my every muscle. It is as if some chill hand has latched onto my spine and wishes only to pull it from my flesh. My senses fade and turn inward, searching out that which now attempts to search for me. Like a siren's damning call it stirs from somewhere else and echos through my very bones. It is unpleasant as far as feelings go, a near physical slime that coats my skin from within. And as disgusting as it is, it feels… uncannily familiar.

"Love what is it?" My lily's hand is on my shoulder but I can not feel it any more than I can answer her concern riddled question. I am moving before I can stop myself, up stairs faster than my pet can keep up with. Past doors and gates until my hands are gripping the door handle of a large house hard enough to warp it. It is all I can do to keep from bursting through the solid wood door and sprinting to that blood curdling call. The call that beckons to the dead and undead a like and presses molten hot against my resistance.

I try to calm myself but the air is heavy with the scent of death both recent and old. It clings to Muiri as she catches up with me and it breathes from beneath the locked door. She is asking me something but I can no longer hear her or anything beyond the call as the lock crumples like paper and gives way. The door swings forth and the inky blackness beyond snaps at the hem of my robes. In such darkness blood loses it's beautiful crimson color but the copper aroma of it is everywhere. It swirls in the mist creeping over the floor boards and rises to greet my hunger with open arms.

"What is that…" Muiri gags, unused to the scent of rot as her hand clamps over her nose and mouth. I do not need to tell her as we enter the quiet abode, for soon enough she will see. Now I understand what it is that draws me onward through that silent house, through room after empty room. I know what it is that calls me to a single wardrobe and it's sliding false back with it's little ritual beyond.

The man over the table doesn't see me at first, so intent on stitching the bits of flesh before him correctly. But as a stray bone crunches under my uncaring step his head snaps up, startled at the interruption to this most intimate of occasions. He is afforded no time to react beyond that though as the hand he had been putting together snaps to life and lunges for his throat. The gargles bubble from between his bared teeth, clawing at the hand that seeks to rip his vocal chords out. His eyes swim in panic, asking questions his lips can no longer form. I give him an answer, but it is one words can not convey properly. I do not care what his reason is for the mess at my feet, for the pieces littering the ground like leftover food thrown to be ravaged by rabid mongrels.

It is over in a matter of seconds, every piece of bone and inch of flesh crawls it's way towards this upstart whose name I would never learn nor even care to. There is only the muffled cries and wet sounds of tearing to be heard as he disappears beneath that which he himself had dismantled. This is the price trespassers pay, those who would tread so foolishly the razor's unforgiving edge. A mist of fine droplets is the last mark of his life as it fades into oblivion and even that he can not manage without making a mess.

From my pocket I take a bit of cloth to wipe the sprinkling of crimson from my face as all that once moved returns to it's natural state of stillness and decay. I then pass the cloth to my apprentice so she might better shield herself from the scent and the urge to retch, although she has already emptied her stomach in the corner.

"So much for dinner," She mutters while wiping at trembling lips. I do not blame her, this den of death is unkempt and sickening. It lacks the most basic understanding of what it is to play with death, and the disrespect is detailed in every crudely drawn symbol and half melted candle.

With contempt I look at the stain that once was this foolish necromancer, this butcherer of tradition and shake my head. To so sloppily conduct one's self, and worse to treat the remains of one of my people so inexcusably makes my very blood run cold. and I leave him there, as nothing but a stain seeping through rough floor boards as a reminder to any who would follow his footsteps of folly.

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><p>Once beyond Windhelm's gates with the crisp winter air cleaning the city's stench from my lungs my precious lily poses to me a question.<p>

"What was that all about back there anyway?"

I smile that soft knowing smile of satisfaction she has grown ever use to and help her up into Shadowmere's saddle before climbing up behind her.

"He called the dead. I answered."

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><p><em>I may do other ones like this involving other cities and told from the pov of other characters. If you have a suggestion for who you'd like to see or a place you'd like them to visit let me know. Please note chapters are not done in chronological order.<em>


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